"Orange," he says. Except for that one regrettable interlude at Adventure Falls, Moskowitz has played bright orange exclusively. "I didn't want to take faded orange," he confesses, "but that's all this place has. I know, in my heart, that faded orange is no good. But I'm afraid if I pick another color, bright orange will know and lose faith in me. So I'm sticking with orange—no matter what shade—until the very end."
16. Rainbow Falls
, 10:20 p.m.
Moskowitz is sitting on the steps of a pink castle near the 16th hole. He's winning, but he's tired. "No way I'm tired," he says. "I'm exhausted!"
Moskowitz has the unmistakable minigolf blankness that occurs when one game begins to blend with the next. He's trying to remember just what he did when, during this long, long day.
His orange ball rolls through a hollow and down a tunnel, then lazily winds down a path and into the cup. "I'm sure we've played this hole before," he says.
17 jungle Golf
, 9:02 a.m.
Moskowitz is mapping out the 10 courses we'll play on our second day. Diliberto is getting nostalgic. He's pining for the good old day. "The level of play has changed," says the minigolf veteran. "Now 5s are taking us out of the game."
"Fives!" says Moskowitz. "Fours! It's all 2s and 3s!"
Diliberto comes from four strokes back to overtake me on 16. "It smells like victory," he screams after bogeying 18. Either victory or Gracie, the African pygmy goat that is penned at the 1st tee.
18. Jungle Golf—Windy Hill
, 9:59 a.m.